Serpent & The Dove
by kidneythieves
Summary: Crowley is feeling altruistic and gives a free deal to a desperate young woman. 10 years later she returns, wanting another deal but this time- she wants him. Seuxally graphic. Reposting. Set season 7.
1. A Demon Goes to Church

**I've posted this story before- this is a slightly more revised/edited version. More chapters to come. Thanks to those who have followed it & share our mutual love for Crowley!**

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**Chapter 1: A Demon Goes to Church**

Crowley never was one for church. Too much religion and righteous people, or at least pretending to be righteous or worse, pretending to be religious. Being a demon had its advantages however, butut being the King of the Cross Roads, well the advantages just kept on coming. His personal favorite trick as a soul-snatching demon was reading the hearts of every mortal being that crossed his path, and knowing their very, truly, dark desires.

He used it often when he was just a plain cross roads demon, reading the desperate souls willing to throw their lives away for wealth, glamour, fame, revenge,… yada yada yada. Now, he barely used it. After all he was the King, people and demons were too afraid to lie to him, too afraid to betray him. Fear had become his ultimate weapon.

Today however, Crowley was reminded on what it was like to be just a normal man. A man who attends church and sits in the very front, dressed in his Sunday best. All black Armani suit and posh Italian leather shoes. It's a difficult task pulling off a black-on-black suit, luckily for Crowley the best tailors resided in Hell.

Casually he leaned back in his seat, eyeing the human patrons entering the church. This lot was dressed to impress, he thought snidely. He watched them closely, reading this pathetic heard of sheep like open books. Some had little to no desire left in their hearts—others pulsed with needs unmet and were pleasantly desperate. But today, the majority of the masses focused their hearts to God. Not on themselves or temptation. Only a handful of people bother with mundane thoughts of their plans for the afternoon—gardening, walking the dog, a quick run to the store, masturbating when the wife goes to the store, blah blah blah…

The masses, Crowley noticed, were suburban white people with too much money and time on their hands. Their beliefs were callous and shallow, only believing in God because they feared Crowley's side of life. The nasty, hot bit. He smirked. He'd probably see half of them in the pit, especially the ones who considered God as a hobby, rather than a religious entity.

Crowley turned away from the sheep and focused his attention center stage. It was one of those alternative new wave churches were the band was a bunch of pimpled faced teenagers. There was a light show, followed by a large screen that displayed Bible verses. Cliché, but from what Crowley gathered, it worked for the sheep. It was spiritual and lively. Gone were the days of Latin and stern preaching.

Today was the days of American Idol sing-alongs and atrocious motivational speeches. He rolled his eyes, not certain he would be able to tolerate this. He would have preferred getting his carcass dragged across hot coals in Hell. But alas, he must stay in this revolting church. After all, he made a deal. And if Crowley was good at anything, it was keeping his deals.

An atrocious twenty minutes later, the show finally started. Lights danced and thrummed across the large stage. Crowley wondered if he was about to see a Broadway show as the music scored to life and vibrated through the seats, electrifying and wowing the crowd. He arched a contemptuous eyebrow.

Why did he have to play altruist now? He scowled fiercely as the teenagers began their horrific singing. He only did it once a year, he told himself reassuringly. It's not like he did this a lot. Besides, Crowley knew why he really did this and it was to remind himself of the man he once was. The simple tailor from Scotland who did good things for his customers, neighbors, family, etc… It was to pay homage of a life that had been good to him while he was still a moral man. He lived a full, happy and maybe even a blessed life before his greed and stupidity got the best of him.

Now, the only way to pay respect to those grand days was through his random act of kindness. Not in redemption, not out of necessity, and most importantly- not for himself.

Crowley might have been a rotten apple to the very core, but he wasn't all bad- really. Sure he was King of the Cross Roads, massacred, slaughtered and tortured humans, monsters, demons and a couple angels through the course of his life but he did do some good here and there. Good that he never discussed or revealed to his peers, who might lose their respect and thus- fear of him should they ever come to find out about his altruistic side. But it was only once a year. Once. Where was the harm in that?

Last night he answered a random cross-roads summons. He decided that it was time to pay respect, and be generous to the soul on the other end, even though they probably didn't deserve it. Still, he had principles and he would follow out this good deed of his, no questions asked.

But when he arrived, he discovered something he hadn't expected or anticipated. Something he was beginning to wonder was destiny… fate even, if he believed in that mumbo jumbo.

This girl just got lucky, he told himself as he stewed uncomfortably on his bench-seat, listening to the religious gospel turned rock'n'roll. He didn't know what was worse- purposely victimizing himself to such racket, or these Christians ruining perfectly good music.

The song eventually ended but on a high as the sheep cheered and applauded the performance, cueing the man of the hour. If he didn't know any better, he would have believed these people were about to worship this mortal man as their God.

It was then that Crowley saw the girl—the girl from last night. Her eyes were casted downwards in a vacant expression. Her face pale, ashen and her slender body was dressed in a pale, boring blue dress. Her light brown hair was severely knotted in a tight bun and her naturally beautiful features were hidden by her passive body language. She walked from behind the curtain of the stage to her reserved seat, along with her mother and siblings behind her.

Crowley followed the pretty little Christen with his dark gaze. This was not the same young, fiery girl he met last night. The one he encountered was passionate and vivacious. What he saw now was an empty shell, playing the role her family and God commanded. He sneered.

He saw her mother- who took her seat promptly with her family, eyes locked to the stage in anticipation. The mother's features were regal and sharp, dressed in all white suit dress with a fancy church hat. She had wealth and power written all over her. The siblings were two younger boys, mere children and another young girl, this one about ten from the looks of her. Beautiful just like her elder sister. The sister that tried to sell her soul to a demon.

Her name was Sarah Redmond, barely 18 years old and lived in uneventful Pennsylvania. She was no one special. No one significant. Just another all American girl with a bright future.

What made her special today was that she had summoned a cross roads demon the night before and happened to get the King of the Cross Roads instead. A King whose random act of kindness would end up being her saving grace.

Sarah barely looked up from the tattered old Bible she had clutched in her hands as the Pastor finally made his smashing appearance. The crowd roared hungrily. Crowley glanced up to the stage and saw a handsome older man stride out. The bright lights making him appear lofty and god-like. His rich brown hair was folded neatly back, his pearly white teeth sparkled in a large award-winning smile and his suit was nearly as flawless as the man who wore it. An impressive sight for a man of God, Crowley thought dully.

Sarah turned white, fear hinting at her grave features. He felt an unusual spark of anger breathe to life inside his chest. He arched an eyebrow at himself. Interesting.

He never cared or took personal interest in anyone or thing, but this one felt strangely different from the others. Maybe because the personal gain here was not a sin. Rarely did he see that these days. The majority of the requests from human were of monetary gain or power. This however was vengeance. Pure and simple. And from a young woman who was pure in intentions.

Still, she was tainted. Violence and cruelty had been inflicted upon her at a young age, making her resent the world that caged her. A cage, whose mangled wires were beginning to coil and tighten around her, suffocating whatever purity she had left. He saw it last night. The little dove of a girl unable to do anything but flap her wings and cry out for a serpent to save her. A serpent like himself.

The sermon began with more ghastly playing from the pimpled faced band. Crowley finally snapped once Pastor Redmond began to preach. He preached of love and kindness, forgiveness and mercy.

Crowley noticed that there was a vacant seat behind Sarah. He took it within a blink of an eye, barely noticed by anyone- they were too enraptured by Pastor Redmond's stirring performance.

He took the opportunity to lean forward in his new seat, feeling the heat from the young girl's tantalizing neck, letting his lips hover behind her ear.

"You're father puts on quite a performance, Sarah." He whispered darkly to her.

She stiffened instantly. She knew who sat behind her, what demon whispered in her ear.

"Don't worry, dove… I'm only here for the show."

Her fear kept her from turning around and acknowledging him. He couldn't blame her. But who was she more afraid of—him or her fanatical father, Pastor Henry Redmond.

Her back was ram-rod straight the rest of the sermon, which ended on another ridiculous song and light show. By the time it had finished, Crowley wondered if sitting through endless loops of Disneyland's ride Small World would have been less painful.

When Sarah rose with her family to greet her father, she finally looked Crowley's way. It was fleeting but he could see the absolute terror etched in those bright golden eyes. He winked at her. Panicked, she abruptly turned away. Crowley stood too, shoving his hands into his pockets, watching.

Pastor Redmond hugged his small boys like an affectionate father, or at least playing the role of one as he then kissed his youngest daughter's temple and his wife's expectant cheek. When he reached Sarah, Crowley took an instinctive step forward but stilled, realizing what he was doing. He was protecting the girl and the anger that had shimmered just below the surface throughout the sermon, now boiled hot in his chest.

Crowley was absolutely fascinated by this reaction. It had been a long time since he felt anything other than contempt.

The Pastor caressed his eldest daughter's cheek, smiling down at her before stepping away to the masses, shaking hands. Her stiff shoulders trembled.

After a few minutes, the crowd dispersed into the lounge area where coffee and bland pastries were being served. Crowley followed. Families gathered to drink their coffee, shake hands, and mingle. Sarah remained stoic and silent besides her mother.

This was not the woman he met last night. That one was full of fierce determination. She was desperate yet hard. Today however, she was lifeless and cold. And he didn't care for it.

Pastor Redmond strolled in, grinning and clasping hands. The performer and the liar. The man of God and the predator. Men like him riddled the most fowl places of Hell, filling the swamps of blood and mud with their vicious, retched souls.

The Pastor made his way to his family, and so did he. Sarah finally looked up from her shoes to meet Crowley's eyes as if sensing him.

"Hello, Miss Redmond." He smiled coyly. "I believe we have an appointment this morning?"

She bit her lower lip nervously, flushing a scarlet red that delighted him. Her innocent beauty enchanted him like it had last night.

Pastor Redmond stepped forward, surveying him suspiciously, still maintaining his ridiculous smile—after all they were being watched by his flock. Appearance was everything. Crowley could relate.

"Hi there, I don't believe we have met."The Pastor stretched out his well manicured hand.

Crowley lifted an eyebrow, but not his hand, indifferent to the polite gesture.

The Pastor smoothly lowered his hand, appearing unaffected. "Well, I'm Pastor Redmond. I'm always excited to meet our new members—even the ones reluctant to join. I don't think I caught your name."

"The name's Crowley. King of the Cross Roads and bona fide demon." He replied casually, as Sarah's mouth fell open, stunned.

The Pastor laughed easily. "I'm sure. At least, I'm sure we all _feel_ that we're our own demons at times. But it's good to see new members joining us on any day."

"He thinks I'm joking," Crowley said to Sarah. "Darling- are you trying to catch flies in that lovely mouth of yours?"

She instantly slammed it shut, wetting her lusciously pink lips. Pink just like her cheeks.

He remembered vividly how those large, delicious lips tasted against his last night. It set the burning ember into a flame inside him. Strange, he thought, how an innocent young woman could cause such a stir in an ancient demon.

Normally his tastes ranged in the naughty, extremely naughty, and downright dirty variety. Well, it was always good to broaden ones tastes and today he wanted the beautiful Christian girl. And vaguely wondered how he could possibly posses her. But alas, he had his principles and spoiling this dove was against them.

"Do you know my Sarah, Mr. Crowley?" the Pastor asked, his voice holding a slight edge.

Crowley's dark eyes never left hers. "I met her late last night. She summoned me- well one of my demons. I happen to be in the neighborhood when the call came in. I made her a promise, a deal sorta say. So wha-la, I'm here. At your beck and call, my dove."

The fear faded from her eyes then as something different entered them… relief? Hope?

"Did you think I would not hold up my end, Sarah?"

She nodded stiffly. "I thought you tricked me…"

"I don't blame you." He replied coolly. "Demons have a tendency to do that. Lie, cheat, steal, kill, maim- etcetera, etcetera. But last night—well, let's just say I invested myself into your little endeavor and won't be leaving until I've paid due."

"What are you talking about, sir? What is this Sarah?"

"Nothing to worry yourself, Pastor. Just a bit of business."

"What business is that?"

Crowley smirked. "The kind that involves a trade."

The Pastor's face tightened in anger. "What trade? Sarah…? Sarah wouldn't make deals with strangers."

Her lower lip trembled.

The Pastor stepped forward suddenly, reaching for his daughter's arm, attempting to draw her away. Crowley moved quickly, blocking him. Sarah let out a small gasp of surprise, shocked by Crowley's protective manner.

A stormy look crossed the Pastor's pristine face.

"Okay- Mr. Crowley, tell me what she promised you and I will settle it myself. No need to involve her anymore."

"Sorry Charlie, but I already sealed this deal with _your_ Sarah last night."

His eyes widened and his gaze turned fiercely onto Sarah. Crowley watched as the Pastor attempted to wrangle in his anger. It was quite a sight.

The Pastor took a bold stepped forward as he whispered darkly, "Whatever you think you know about my Sarah- or whatever association you have with her, it ends here!"

It was Crowley's turn to intimidate as he moved forward, his gaze sharp and edging on the verge of demonic black.

"Save your posturing for someone who gives a damn Pastor. Because frankly, you're eating up my time. But if you want to get down to it, fine—let's get dirty shall we, Pastor." Crowley smiled coldly. "I must first compliment you on your show—you really know how to woo the crowd. You're revered and worshiped." He hummed in approval. "Such power and authority, my, my. I'm almost impressed. Good thing you've got your looks, Pastor. You know what they say about sex appeal? Really goes a long way, 'specially with the ladies, doesn't it big boy?" His smirk faded into a cold rage.

"What about your children? Do you put on a show for them before you creep into their beds? Or do you slither in like the snake that you are while they're asleep?"

The Pastor's nostrils flared and a vein pulsated in his forehead, ready to pop.

"Your kind," Crowley continued. "Usually gets a special kind of punishment where I'm from… It involves lots of painful torture—eventually leading to getting your cock ripped off and fed to the Hell Hounds, before of course, they disembowel and eat you alive."

"You're insane!" The Pastor said.

He reached for his wife and family, trying to pull them away, while other members of his flock were beginning to take notice to the disturbance taking place in their holy church.

"Leave now, Mr. Crowley! Or be escorted out, sir."

Men from his flock appeared at Crowley's side, ready to throw him out once the command was given. Sarah, all of a sudden, stepped from behind him, that fiery spark of life he'd seen the night before had finally returned. He smiled smugly.

Sarah had swallowed her fear, eyes hard as stones. She said nothing, simply nodded at him, telling him what she wanted- he could feel it in her heart and soul. And he was more than willing to give it. He focused and harnessed his powers onto Pastor Redmond, clenching his insides with crippling force.

The Pastor stumbled backwards suddenly, gripping his chest, gasping out in pain. His wife shrieked and grabbed at him as he slumped to the floor, writhing and kicking out in pain.

The congregation flocked to his side, calling for help and an ambulance. But it was no use. Crowley fisted his hand tighter and squeezed the very life out of the man's heart, and in doing so he felt the man's sinful deeds ooze from his soul. Pastor Redmond was a hideous man who deserved a worse death than this. He twisted once more, making the Pastor scream out.

Pastor Henry Redmond was dead before anyone had time to dial 911. Hysterical cries echoed through the church, along with sobs and muffled weeps.

He glanced towards Sarah now. Her face was pale and vacant again.

He knew it would take her some time to process and understand. But this was what she wanted. This was what she was willing to trade her innocent soul for. The death of the man who hurt and molested her. A man who had turned his intentions on her youngest sister, forcing Sarah to make the deal with a demon to stop him once and for all.

"Is he in Hell now?" She asked softly besides him.

"Of course. I didn't lie about that bit with the hounds either. I'm sure my pups will be delighted with their newest treat."

She finally looked away from the mob to Crowley. "Will I go to Hell too, now?"

"No. Your soul is still yours."

"Then why did you help me?"

He gazed down at the young girl, who he knew would grow up into a beautiful woman someday. A soul he would never touch or know. "I consider it my random act of kindness for the year. You're just lucky it happened to be you, dove."

Her eyes suddenly watered, brimming as she said with trembling lips, "thank you, Crowley."

He cleared his throat awkwardly and took a breath. "Yes, well- you're welcome. I don't usually hear someone say thank you—unless it's in a weeping, begging kind of tone." He shrugged. "Hopefully we won't meet again, Sarah. Stay in school and out of trouble, eh?"

She nodded absently, her expression warming to him. He wondered what he looked like through those eyes. A demon? A true, real-life monster? Or something else…? Something more?

Yet as he continued to look into those eyes he realized that Sarah Redmond was merely looking out from behind the bars of her cage. A cage he could not penetrate or break her free from. She would have to do that herself. He hoped that someday, she would. If she was strong enough.

"Hope to never see you again, dove. Good luck with the rest of your life." He said sincerely, and with that- Crowley vanished.

_**TBC**_


	2. Ten Years Later

**Chapter 2: Ten years later**

Crowley sat behind his large mahogany desk in his mansion. Well, not his mansion, some ten-year contractor who's time was up and soul currently residing in Hell. Crowley's Hell.

In just a short amount of time he managed to become ruler of all Hell, thanks to the Hardy Boys and a childish angel. Though the job had its' perks, it also had its' setbacks. Like man-eating Leviathans that stormed the planet, ravishing it relentlessly. Wanting to help the Winchester, Crowley kept his demons in check and away from the brothers while they went on their crusade against Dick Roman and his gooey black creatures.

He hated the lot of them. Couldn't wait to have them re-caged or dead. But Crowley tried not to think about it. It was down time. He allowed himself some time to unwind, drink and relax, and maybe if he was lucky, watch some fun documentaries on the Nazis or former rulers.

He waved his hand in a bored gesture, lights flipping off, darkening the study. Heads and carcasses of dead animals stared down at him, along with some priceless piece of art that hung above a giant fireplace. He snapped his fingers and fire burst from the mouth, the flames roaring to life.

He sighed, closing his eyes as he took a sip of 40 year old scotch. He breathed in the taste, savoring it while he rested. It had been a long, grueling month for the Ruler of Hell. When he wasn't worrying about Leviathans, he was guarding the safety of his throne from the demons who wanted to snatch it from him, and killing the ones who threatened it. Crowley would've given anything to wipe out all the blood-thirsty lot of them. Lucifer had the right idea about that. Stake and maim anything with black eyes.

But tonight- Crowley planned on doing absolutely nothing and enjoying every second of it.

"Sir," said an uneasy voice entering his quite domain.

Crowley's eyes shot open angrily. "What?!"

"Forgive the intrusion, sir. But we have an urgent matter for you…"

"Can't this bloody-well wait? I'm on holiday!"

The demon hesitated. "I—uh, I guess… but sir…"

Crowley's temper flared. Demons were utterly useless and dumber than Dean-bloody-Winchester!

"Spit it out, you useless prat!" Crowley roared. He wasn't in the mood. He spent every waking hour dealing with Hellish matters. And this demon was interrupting his down time.

"It's with the cross roads, sir. You've been requested at one in Pennsylvania."

"If I had the energy to kill you right now, I would. I'm on vacation—does anybody bloody care?! A cross-roads matter? Are you serious?" He scoffed at the idea. "I haven't stepped foot on a cross-roads since I became Ruler! Have someone else deal with it—I don't care."

"I know sir, I'm sorry sir." The demon fumbled out. "But the human says you know her. Says you've made a deal before. And said her name is Sarah Redmond."

Crowley anger faded abruptly. Sarah Redmond. He recognized that name. The Christian he saved years ago. What could she possibly want now?

Intrigued, Crowley decided that he could spare the dove a few moments of his time. After all, he'd spared her soul before—and he certainly wouldn't do it again. Besides, he vividly recalled their kiss from that long forgotten night. How her lips were so tentative and unsure. Yet soft and plaint, waiting to be devoured, which of course he did. He couldn't help it. Touching the soul of a pure, innocent was his secret little sin. Most people he ended up locking lips with in those days were desperate, angry souls. Hers—tasted like sweet Heaven, or maybe it was just her mouth. And if she wanted another deal… he just might get another taste.

He vanished instantly and appeared at the cross roads in Pennsylvania. It was a four way road in desolate farm country with nothing but green in every direction and an old, weathered barn next to the road, empty like the surrounding fields. It was dark, the only thing lighting their road was a rusted spotlight, which flickered on the verge of death and of course, the brilliant full moon.

Crowley saw her standing in the middle of the dusty road, flanked by two demons and the cross roads demon that had appeared upon her summons.

He arched a slightly impressed eyebrow at this cross roads demon. He was absurdly handsome and well built, wearing a dark black suit, similar to Crowley's but not as tasteful. Legend of the cross roads says that the person who casts the spell would get a demon that appeals to them, which in turn would help seal the deal because of the physical beauty.

Crowley now stared at what Sarah's idea of attractive was. And he didn't particularly care for it.

"Sir," the demon said, addressing him accordingly. "The woman requested you personally. She knew you by name and who you were." Crowley noticed a hint of a British accent in the demons voice. He frowned.

"Yes, I got the memo, thank you." He said dismissively. "You and your boys may leave."

The demon hesitated and glanced behind him at the woman. "Sir, the men have requested her once you're done. She is rather..." He trailed off, glancing behind him to glance over Sarah's lovely assets.

Crowley tilted a cool head at him, pretending indifference, though an unexpected surge of anger flared inside him.

"Well—she's very attractive for a human." The cross roads demon said with an evil smirk, his black eyes glinting with desire.

Crowley gave the cross roads demon a smile of his own. "As much as I would love to grant you that request—I feel that I would rather rip out your entrails and feed them to a wood chipper. I'm sure they have one of those lying around here somewhere." He stepped forward, his voice grave. "Now I suggest you flee, demon. Or I will personally enjoy gutting you."

The demon, looking quite panicked, vanished, along with the other demons. Sarah stumbled forward slightly, caught off guard by the abrupt departure of the demons who held her. She regained her composure and straightened her brown overcoat and flipping her lush wavy brown hair back from her shoulder.

"Sarah Redmond—my, my… what a pleasant surprise." Crowley cooed tauntingly.

He couldn't stop his hot gaze as he trailed over her body appreciatively. And my, what a woman she had become over the past ten years. A blazon beauty. She reminded him of the old school pin up girls he'd admired long ago, all supple curves with a hint of seductive allure in the pout of her lips. He let his eyes explore her body, all the way down to the tip of her black high heels, up her lengthy tanned legs to the overcoat just above her knees, hiding her dress beneath.

Her golden brown eyes sparked and burned. Her full, pouty lips were too big for her lovely face, but that was okay by him. More to devour and taste. Women like her were rare birds. He knew it from the moment he saw her all those years ago. Now she was all grown up and dueling with demons. Impressive.

"I thought I told you I never wanted to see you again." Crowley said darkly.

She blinked in surprise. "I thought you meant in Hell- not socially."

"Socially?" He laughed, mildly amused. "Why on earth would you want to socialize with a demon, sweetheart? We're not exactly lining up to play the next Bachelor."

"I know- you're right. I just wanted to… talk to you."

He eyed her curiously from across the street. "By all means then, talk."

She hesitated.

"You did summon me darling…" Her features stiffened. Crowley titled his head. "Daunting task, talking with a demon. But much has changed since we last saw each other Miss Sarah Redmond."

"I know." She said. "The demons told me that your ruler of Hell now."

He noticed the lack of fear in her eyes. It wasn't every day that a mere human met the ruler of Hell and lived to tell the tale. He stepped towards her slowly, "doesn't that frighten you?"

Her tentative gaze showed her caution, but she surprised him by saying, "No- you don't scare me."

"Why not? I consider myself a pretty scary guy."

"I suppose it's because you saved my life."

"I didn't save your life." He said dismissively. "I just removed a thorn from your side."

Her eyes flashed defiantly, "A thorn that could've ruined my life. And my sister's. But he didn't. He couldn't- because of you. I owe you, Crowley. I owe you for the happiness and life I got back."

"And you're happy now?" He felt genuinely interested on how her life had turned out. After all, it wasn't everyday that Crowley became invested in many humans. Not unless it was for personal gain. Sarah Redmond however was different. She was different from the moment he met her ten years ago.

Her golden eyes sparkled in pride, "I'm a criminal attorney."

He barked out a laugh, "really? How terribly ironic."

"Maybe," she countered easily. "But just because I _know_ that these guys will be punished severely down in your world, doesn't mean I can't give a little punishment while they still breathe."

He arched an impressed brow. "My, you sound like Judge Judy. Bravo, darling. You've made yourself into quite a woman."

"Thanks to you," Sarah said in a soft voice.

"Is that why you have summoned me? You went through all that trouble—with the possibility of even losing your soul to your pretty faced cross-roads demon, just to thank me?"

She nodded, her throat swallowing nervously. "Yes—I know it probably wasn't the smartest move. But it's not like I could just Facebook you like we mortals do."

He frowned, but nodded just the same. True.

"And I called you this way before—I figured it would work again."

"It did my dove. You summoned the Ruler of Hell…" He sneered in contempt. "To thank me."

"I also wanted to give you something."

Crowley opened his mouth to counter with a resounding _no_, when Sarah slipped her hand over the tie of her overcoat and loosened it, opening it to reveal the sinfully tight black dress. It curved and hugged to her body like the very skin that contained her. Her breasts swelled with each breath and seemed to nearly pop right out of the dress from the amount of cleavage she bared for him. Her incredible soft skin begged to be touched. His hands suddenly itched to bury himself into such wealth of sin and temptation.

But she was an innocent. Her blood was not tainted with the likes of his kind and her humanity was still naive to the violence the supernatural world possessed. Crowley was many things, but he wasn't the type to prey on the helpless, not unless they deserved it.

He hesitated. She noticed and removed her over coat completely, letting it slide slowly down her arms and into the dirt of the street. He inhaled sharply. Her shoulders were bare, her short dress hugged her thighs, her entire body begged to be devoured. And if she were a woman of the more naughty sexual variety, he'd take her in an instant.

She moistened her lips as she looked at him under heavy eyelids, "did you know…? You were my first real kiss, Crowley."

He smirked, eyeing her bosom and feeling the unmistakable heat burn inside him. "You consider kissing a demon as your first?"

She shrugged, "It was better than the one I got after yours. A fumbling junior with braces. So yeah, your kiss was nothing in comparison to that disaster."

"What about now? You're far too beautiful to be left untamed."

She smiled weakly, stepping closer to him, the tension in his stomach coiling into a hard desire. "You're right. I've had a few men but nothing serious or worth the effort. I guess I was holding out for something… else. _Someone_… else…"

He placed a cautious hand on her shoulder when she finally reached him. "Trust me sweetheart, I'm not the kind of guy to get involved with. _You_ of all people should know that."

Sarah's eyes blazed. "I know! God, I know." She clenched a fist at her side. "I thought I was going crazy for the longest time. Desiring a demon! The demon who killed my father."

He watched her raw emotional display with interest. He was instantly reminded of the young woman he ten years before—full of fire, passion, and determination. He could only imagine what this woman had gone through to convince herself to come here tonight.

"All through high school I dreamt of you. At first, they were horrible nightmares of my—my late father sneaking into my room. Then you would show up…" Her face softened. "You would stop him. You would save me. Eventually the dreams became… fantasies."

Crowley attempted to hide his disbelief. Never did he think in a million years would he be a knight in shining armor.

She continued on. "So I started dating—boy after boy. Thinking that I just needed to find the right one, the right guy to make me forget about you."

"I'm sure the boys in your high school appreciated your endeavor." He said sarcastically.

She ignored him. "The problem was I didn't want anyone else. I've tried, trust me—I _tried_! But I want the man who saved my life. Who made me unafraid…"

"Problem is, Sarah." Crowley interrupted sharply, "I'm _not_ a man. I'm a demon. A King among demons. One who has standards and principles. And I don't toy with pure doves such as yourself. Now," he didn't bother to bend to retrieve her coat, simply snapped his fingers and her overcoat was once more covering her scandalous black dress.

"Run along and don't call me again. Not unless you're making a deal- then I'm sure you'll get that fine looking demon from before. The pretty one with the accent."

"I'm not pure, Crowley. And you know it," she replied breathlessly.

She hugged her overcoat tightly around her waist, arms trembling , her beautiful face etched with the shame of his rejection. "I had you kill my father. How is that good? How can I possibly still be pure and not damned?"

Crowley felt his jaw clench, "I told you before—you aren't damned because of what I did for you. You didn't sell your soul to me! It's still yours to do as you please."

"And what I want to do with it, right?" She snapped. "I want _you_."

He gritted his teeth, a flame of piercing lust shot straight tthrough him. But he resisted.

"You can't have me, dove. Like I said- standards and you don't qualify." Crowley turned, needing to walk away from this temptress. He didn't like the idea of soiling mortal humans who had yet a chance to sin in their brief lives. And he had a feeling that Sarah Redmond, the good Christian girl was Heaven bond.

"I bought this dress for you," she said abruptly, her voice shaking. "I didn't own anything- anything that could tempt a demon."

Crowley stopped walking, his limited self-control on the brink of severing. What did this girl do to him? She was driving him bloody mad!

He didn't turn as he replied coolly, "You could've worn a sack for all I care… You're not my cup of tea, darling."

"I came here to seduce you, Crowley. I came here to hear the voice that has haunted my dreams for the past ten years. The voice I still fantasize about, whispering my name when I touch myself."

Crowley's entire body burned like a smoldering ember, ready to burst at any second. "Sarah- stop, I'm warning you…"

"I imagine you when I'm with another man," she breathed out, her voice barely audible but he heard her.

His shoulders tensed, his fists balled painfully by his sides. What the hell? Had the world gone absolutely mad? Sending this good Christian girl after him like some bloody courtesan, meant to seduce him?! Crowley couldn't believe it, yet wanted to. Desperately wanted to.

Time to show her who she was dealing with—what she was asking for. He turned angrily on his heel, his emerald eyes darkening a pitch black, revealing his demon half. He vanished, reappearing suddenly before her, holding her roughly by the shoulders and forcing her look upon his face. To see the demon.

"Is this what you _want_, Sarah?" He asked menacingly. "A demon in your bed?"

Her fragile body trembled like a leaf in his grasp. "I would sell my soul to forget you," she whispered weakly. "I know I can't have you. But I still want you."

"You're a fickle creature, darling…" he drawled out, unwilling to release her.

She laughed weakly, but there was no humor in her eyes, just pain. "You don't understand, Crowley. If I can't ever have you than I would do anything to forget you."

The shock of her words hit him hard. The desperation and pain in her voice made him see the truth in what she was saying. She wanted a demon and knew it was wrong. Yet here she was. Dressed in a black dress that would tempt the holiest of men and summoning a demon to take her to bed.

His voice darkened as he whispered softly to the dove in his arms, "How about I just kill you instead, Sarah?"

She laughed hollowly, tilting her head back, exposing the soft flesh of her neck to him, her limbs loosening in his hold. Crowley had never been so affected by a human before. Her raw display of emotions was something foreign to him. Yet he responded to it. His whole body was on fire, burning with such intensity he couldn't understand it.

He moved so fast he barely had time to register what he was doing before his hand hooked behind the nape of her neck, his fingers tangling in her lush brown hair, and pulling her face to his. Close. He saw the unshed tears in her bright brown eyes.

"I'm a sinner with dirty hands. And you're a pure dove. I'd taint you, Sarah."

She gasped as he pushed himself into her softness, letting her feel the fire she had started within him, the hard burn of desire between his legs.

Her fingers reached out desperately, clutching the arm that held her. She melted into him, all soft limbs and warmth.

"You still don't get it, Crowley." She whispered. "You already ruined me ten years ago." Her fingers touched his lips, caressing the stubble and ranking her nails over his cheek. "Your kiss ruined me forever."

To Hell with principles, he thought as his mouth came down hard on hers. Her lips parted in desperate anticipation. His tongue made one sweet, piercing stab into her mouth. The suddenness of it, the masculine claim it symbolized had her shaking in his arms. Her hands clutched the front of his suit jacket and her head fell back. His whiskers scraped her face, but she didn't seem to care. His tongue, as smooth as velvet mated with hers and provocatively stroked the inside of her mouth, leaving her breathless.

An emptiness deep inside Crowley yawned wide, yearning to be filled. And only this good Christian girl could fill it. The serpent wanting the dove. Wanting to eat her whole. Consume what she was entirely.

Instinctively, her hungry body arched against him, her arms folded around his neck. Her blatant response to his advances drove him mad. He instantly deepened the kiss. His broad hand opened wide over her back and pressed her close to his body. The fervency mounted until he made a strangled cry and lifted his head. He stared down into her bewildered, lustful eyes. Her mouth was now red and moist from their kiss.

"Is this what you want, Sarah?" he rasped.

Involuntarily, she ran her tongue over her throbbing lips. He bit back the urge to groan. The innocence in her face, in her taste…

"You're so sweet, my dove." He kissed her again, his tongue thrusting deeply. She responded again, this time with more vigor. Clutching, clinging to him. Moaning in the back of her throat like some wonderful harlot ready to be taken to bed.

She pulled her lips free from his, her fingers still clutched to his jacket, "take me somewhere, Crowley…" her voice was pleadingly sweet.

Crowley moved his lips to her sensitive neck and nipped at the flesh beneath her ear. She shivered. "Where would you like to go, Sarah?"

She hummed gaspingly as he sucked now on her skin, hard yet gentle. Branding her, marking her as his. "Anywhere…" she breathed dreamily. "Anywhere as long as I'm with you."

Crowley kept her wrapped in his arms as they vanished from the dusty road in Pennsylvania. The reappeared in his mansion, in the bedroom, doors securely locked and the dark room lit only from the fireplace, which roared to life upon their entrance.

Sarah glanced around curiously, "Is this where you live?"

Crowley shrugged, "For the moment." He said, barely able to focus a coherent thought let alone form words. His carnal desires had grown rampant and it was time to bloody well yield to them.

He slid his hands underneath her overcoat, letting it fall to the carpeted floor. Her eyes casted a new vulnerability now, knowing that her longing was finally being fulfilled and that she would be his for this night.

She stood still before him, her eyes half-mast and heavy as he trailed his hands down her warm flesh, feeling her throbbing heartbeat above her breast as he opened his palm wide over the fluttering beat. He could feel her desire pulsating through her and into him. He bent his head and kissed the nipple of her breast through her dress. The wet, stroking caress of his tongue seeped through the thin material, and caused it to mold to a fine tip. He continued to torment her, feeling her legs threaten to give beneath her. He slowly moved his lips back to her neck and sucked greedily while his hands found the zipper to her dress. She gasped the second his hand met her bare flesh of her back.

He hummed, loving her responses for him. How long had it been since he held a woman, a human- who willing became enraptured by his touch? Not many, at least without the monetary incentive. And then of course there were demons. But even then he only sought release, never an intimacy.

"I want to see you," she whispered huskily. He searched her eyes and noticed the surprise there. Then she said more boldly, "take off your shirt. Please."

Her polite afterthought amused him as he broke out into a slow, cat like grin. "Anything the lady wants," he murmured and loosened his tie before unbuttoning his shirt. He dropped his clothes to the floor besides her coat, indulging her curiosity.

When she reached out to touch him, she hesitated, then asked with her eyes. He nodded, though it took every ounce of control he had to not throw her down on the bed right then. Bloody hell she was beautiful. Big, innocent brown eyes, full lips, soft ivory skin…

Her touch was delicate and inquisitive when she first laid her hands on the upper, curving portion of his chest. Her thumbs came dangerously close to touching his nipples before they shied away to stroke the intriguing hairline of his chest. When Crowley couldn't stand her fluttering hands anymore, he clasped his fingers about her delicate wrists and drew her towards him.

Impatiently, he slipped off her loose dress and let it fall around her ankles. He angled her head back and kissed her, sending his tongue into the satiny warmth of her mouth. She tasted sweet and pure. A taste unfamiliar to him yet exciting and erotic. A taste he knew he shouldn't be having. But damn him to all eternity, it was worth it. One intoxicating night with this angel would be enough—it had to be.

Sarah's curious hands were far from exploring though, for he felt her unclasp his belt and loosen his slacks. Reflexively, he thrust his manhood forward, rubbing it against her receptive warmth. She sighed, growing feverish in his arms as her mouth grew suddenly frantic. Her mouth widened, her tongue sought his and they kissed savagely. He felt the tips of her fingers dig into his shoulders as she pushed herself into him. He felt her full, supple breasts against his chest. The hardened tips enthralling his senses and driving him utterly insane.

With an impatience bordering on violence, he ended their kiss. Taking her by the hand, Crowley led her across the room to a chair near the balcony window. He sat down in the plush leather chair and left her standing before him.

He noticed the trepidation in her eyes. He wanted to push Sarah, his dove, to the very limit and see what she would do. Would she take flight? Or fall?

Her challenge was to strip completely in front of him for one purpose, his entertainment.

He instructed her with his cool emerald eyes and something flashed across her face, determination and… excitement. He smirked, letting his legs fall apart and his erection harden as the good Christian girl began to strip out of her black laced bra and panties.

Her eyes took on a mysterious quality, a seductiveness he'd never seen from her.

She trailed the tips of her fingers to the strap of her bra, down to the clasp in the front where she then with painstakingly slowness, unsnapped it. Crowley's eyes burned into her but she continued unabated, her breasts bare and nipples already hard for him. She swept her hair forward, its length almost reaching the tips of her breasts. Crowley watched, his body stirring anxiously, as she slipped her fingers beneath the black lace of her panties and drug them down her shapely legs, her gaze never leaving his.

He growled hungrily, unable to maintain his cool demeanor. With one confident motion, he moved to the edge of the chair and pulled her forward. His mouth landed with a soft, damp impact on her naked belly. She let out a surprised gasp. He kissed and nuzzled her silky skin, tasting and savoring, exploring and tantalizing. Sarah laid her hands on the sides of his head, curling her fingers around his ears, and watched him while he branded her with his ardent kisses.

He could feel the quiver of her belly beneath his lips, exciting him to the point of breaking. His breath stirred the triangle of hair between her legs, moving into it. Sarah let out a cry, her knees giving way, which snapped him to his senses. Crowley stood up and enfolded her in his powerful embrace with ease.

But he was far from done with her. While she thrummed with hot arousal, he slipped his hand between her thighs, which parted without hesitation for him as his fingers touched gently, enticingly. She whimpered then cried out his name as he dipped his fingers inside her, thumbing her sensitive nub.

Listening to her groan and whimper, made his arousal hardened to a fine point. The tension had built in his gut, hard and bittersweet. But he refused to give in just yet. He wanted this night to last. After all, Sarah came to him. She wanted this and the least he could do was give her a night to remember.

With expert skill, he slipped out his slacks and shoes, keeping her in his arms the whole time. Her lips sought his and in a passionate frenzy, they kissed. Hot, opened mouth kisses that left them both breathless and anxious for more. He smoothed his hand down the back of her thigh and gently lifted it up over his. When the most intimate parts of their bodies touched, she reacted with total abandonment, throwing her head back until her hair almost reached her waist and arching against him to bring his arousal into her.

"Not yet, dove," he whispered hoarsely, though taken aback by her wanton reaction to him.

He breathed uneasily, beginning to lose control. He once more slipped his fingers into her, touching the moist warmth that made her a woman. Her breath came out raggedly, her chest panting, her breasts straining against him. It was one of the most arousing sights Crowley had ever seen. A woman in total blissful freedom, ready with open arms to take her rapture. And Crowley intended on giving it to her. He dipped further and flicked harder and it was then her body jerked into him, her muscles clenching.

Her nails dug into his shoulders. Her teeth made imprints on his chest. He savored each single spasm that gripped her. Her beautiful lips parted, swollen and red from their kisses and her eyes were closed lazily. Feeling mischievous, he flicked her over sensitive clit once more- she let out a strangled cry, wrapping herself like a vein around him. Weakly she leaned against him, panting softly. He cradled her in his arms and carried her to the massive oak framed bed, where he tenderly laid her down on the lush pillows and sheets.

He ranked his hands down her body then, touching the places he had yet to explore. Her body seemed to light anew at his bold touch, her eyes opening to him in sensual pleasure. He got on the bed with her, placing his knee between her opened legs, rubbing slowly into her wet womanhood. She sighed, biting down on her lower lip. He noticed then how witch-like this woman appeared then. Her reddened lips, her rosy cheeks, her soft welcoming eyes and wild light brown hair spread out across the pillow.

"You're beautiful," Crowley whispered huskily.

She watched him, her gaze almost unnerving. "You're beautiful," she barely said above a whisper.

"Who me?" he looked down at her with skepticism. It twisted his smile and narrowed his eyes, making his expression roguish.

She purred, smiling. "Yeah… you, Crowley. And what you did to me. That was beautiful."

"I couldn't agree more, my dove." He touched the moist cleft between her thighs once more with his knee, making her writhe achingly against him. "It was beautiful to watch you…" he bent to her then, licking the lips that were too delicious to neglect any longer. "To feel you cum for me so magnificently, Sarah…" He said, pulling away to continue his torment above her.

Her legs opened wider and hips thrusted against his knee. "I want to feel you, Crowley…" she said desperately, her body seeming to ache with need.

His jaw tensed when he dropped himself lower onto her, her hands instantly grabbing his straining cock, rubbing him, tugging on his thick erection. He released a tremendous groan against her chest, letting her stroke him ruthlessly.

But he wanted more than her hands on him. He wanted all of her. Every incredible inch.

He pulled away from her grasping hands and positioned himself on top of her. His penetration was swift and deep. Sarah gasped but accepted him, ready for him. Crowley felt again the smoldering heat in the depths of her body. Like glowing embers being fanned, it burned hot and then hotter. When he began to move, she responded, lifting her hips to welcome his thrusts.

His restraint couldn't last forever though since he had already waited to be inside her. Soon, he increased the tempo, pounding into her with the rushing need that now enthralled him and held him. They whirled together in this fiery, passionate dance of sin and sex, until both were left burnt and gasping. Bloody hell, she felt amazing inside and out. Crowley never felt such passion before. It was intoxicating as it was dangerous.

He pounded into her with a growing need. The tension around his cock stiffened to the point of breaking but he refused to give in so soon. He wanted this moment to last—to feel her, to be inside her…

Sarah climaxed suddenly, this time almost violently, her thighs gripping him as her stomach clenched and her hips arched off the bed. She cried loudly up into the darkness, her body surrendering to the night. He felt her inner muscles clench around his cock. Crowley burst into flames mere seconds later, sinking deeper into her, reaching inside her, touching her heavenly soul.

He needed a drink. A big one. Crowley pushed his palms into his closed eyes, a sudden exhaustion engulfing him. He should have said no. He should have told her to go home and forget about him for good. He should have stayed away from her… Should've, should've, should've, he thought bitterly.

He stood in front of the fireplace that faded into embers. He stared into charcoal burnt remains, wishing he made a better decision than what he had mere hours ago. He reached up to the ledge and pulled down his finely aged scotch and took a hearty drink, letting the burn warm his stomach. He scratched absently as his whiskered chin and cheeks. Usually he preferred no stubble, but Sarah seemed to like it last night, she kept trailing her fingers through his facial hair before sucking and kissing on his lips.

She fell asleep in a matter of minutes the first go around. The second time he whipped her beyond exhaustion, her body all loose limbed and feverish, but she faded fast once more. Multiple orgasms in one night could do that to a woman.

All of a sudden Crowley felt the tenting in his slacks and the tension grip his stomach. He cursed, pressing a hard palm down on the swelling flesh. Hell, just thinking about all the bloody things they did made him hard. He would have thought he was pumped dry after last night. They had been insatiable. They went from torridly hot, to ravenously naughty, to a horrifically tender and earnest, but always- _always_ left wanting more from each other.

Had he ever met a more responsive woman? In any country? On any continent? Any level of Hell?

Having resisted temptation for as long as he could, Crowley glanced over his shoulder to the slumberous beauty in his bed. He took another drink. What happened last night was a mistake. She was a human- he was King of Hell. No way would this work and why he was even considering it put him on edge. He noticed then the small love bites all over her body as she laid out on the bed, a thin sheet covering her curvy, supple body. Her neck was bruised, along with the flesh above her breasts and the inside of her thighs. Crowley couldn't stop staring.

He had finally lost his bloody mind, he realized. He'd snapped. It could be the only logical conclusion to his current misbegotten situation.

Morning light began to fill the room, spilling over the bed and warming her flesh in the sunlight. He clenched his jaw. He needed to remedy this now. No more waiting. The good little Christian needed to get as far and as fast away from this demon as physically possible. Or else he might do something quite dramatic- like chain her to his bed and enslave her to him forever. Besides, Sarah deserved more than him. She deserved a life without sin and without him.

He set his glass down and went digging through her coat pockets. He found her wallet and ID. Home is where this dove belonged.

_**TBC**_

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****Thanks for the lovely comments so far. More chapters to come!****


	3. Price of Indulgence

**Chapter 3: Price of Indulgence**

Sarah twirled the ring on her finger hypnotically, letting her eyes wondered over the casework and files on her desk. Twirling. Twirling.

It hadn't been a dream, she told herself, maybe for the millionth time over the past few days. The love bites on her skin proved it wasn't another dream. Even without the physical evidence, every second of that night had seared into her brain like a scolding brand.

Crowley, the demon of her darkest fantasies, had been her lover for a night. One sinful night, filled with delicious kisses, mind-numbing orgasms, and unexpected emotion. It was as if Crowley had read her most secretive sexual desires and gave them life. A night she would never forget and always cherish.

The following morning when she had awoken, toes curling as she stretched, her body feeling deliciously tired yet wonderfully sedated. She remembered slowly opening her eyes, expecting to see the room where Crowley had taken her, but instead she was greeted by the all too familiar sight of her own bedroom ceiling. Sarah had let out a long strangled groan, burying her face into her pillow and crying out in frustration. She then took a painfully hot shower, burning away all trace of Crowley with a punishing force.

Damn that demon, she thought angrily now. It had been two days. Two, very long, hellish days of wanting—pure, hard, lustful wanting. A craving that itched in the back of her mind that she knew she couldn't scratch. She had never felt this kind of desire before in her life. Every night she went to bed thinking about him—hearing his tantalizing voice whispering in her ear, touching her, kissing her. And those lips… she had dreamt about where those lips and how he had kissed her that night.

It was now her second night in a row she had resorted to touching herself, just to stop the haunting memories in order to sleep.

How could he just so coldly leave her after sharing such an extraordinary night?! She knew he had to have felt something. Anything! But what did she expect? A shower of kisses and hugs the following morning? Maybe another quick romp in the sack before he sent her scurrying home? Get real, Sarah.

Since then, Sarah buried herself in work.

She expected this, she thought, twirling her ring. The pain. What she didn't expect was how hard it would be to bare. To pretend as if her whole life hadn't changed in one glorious night. To tolerate what she knew she could not have and burn for it anyway. Worse of all, was knowing that it was all one-sided. Crowley didn't care for her, nor wanted her. He granted her the night she wanted, though reluctantly, and she took it greedily. Now she must pay for her indulgences. And her pain, the burn through her body, and the ache in her heart- that was her price.

A sharp knock came at her office door, interrupting her bleak thoughts. Her co-worker and close friend Rachel stood in the doorway, her face pinched in a scowl.

"Wanna get some coffee?" she asked.

Sarah arched an eyebrow, "It's barely 9am. The day hasn't even started and you're already abandoning ship?"

Rachel rolled her eyes dramatically. "Don't start with me. Are you comin' or not?"

Ten minutes later they sat at a café down the street, sipping hot coffee and nibbling on fatty pastries, overlooking the bustling city streets. The cool spring air felt refreshing and pleasant. She might have needed a coffee break more than she thought as she gazed out the coffee shop window.

Sarah watched businessmen stroll past, their shoulders pulled back and proud. Their arrogance and dark work suits made the knot in her stomach shift painfully. Black on black had become incredibly sexy to her all of a sudden and it was only because she could see Crowley, stripping lazily out of his silk black tie, his fingers working their way down his shirt. Her body shivered at the thought.

"Okay- spill," Rachel said rather demandingly from across the table. Sarah's eyes collided with her friend's, puzzled.

"What's going on with you? The past couple days you've been in zombie land or mars, or something. What's up?" She asked. "Is it Patrick?"

Sarah's finger instantly clammed up over the diamond engagement ring. "No… no," she replied quickly. "Nothing's wrong, Patrick and I are fine."

"Uh-huh. So what's with the face?" Rachel circled her face with a well-manicured finger. "What's going on with _this_?"

Sarah sipped her coffee, pretending ignorance. Rachel narrowed her eyes dangerously. She suddenly wished her friend wasn't such a good lawyer because detecting bullshit within seconds was part of the job.

"Is it the Roman case?" She asked suspiciously. "Cause, I can help you out if you need it. It's crap that the New York office sent us some of their workload…"

Sarah interrupted her with a shake of her head. "No. I can handle Richard Roman's case. It's not that bad anyway. Besides, it's cool knowing the guy's dirty laundry."

Rachel snorted, "Please. Roman's people have probably already taken care of whatever 'laundry'- dirty or not, this man has. Hell, running for President, one must know how to cover their tracks."

Sarah pondered a second before replying, "You're right. Actually, I haven't even opened it yet. I've been focused on the backlog stuff. God, my fingers ache just from the amount of filing I've been trying to get through."

"Well, you better open that file when you get back. Our New York branch isn't going to wait on us if this case ever goes to court."

Sarah sank deeper into her chair and absently began twirling her ring once more.

Rachel leaned back in her seat. "So- you're not going to tell me?"

"There's nothing to tell," she replied irritably.

"Really? Well the least you can do is warn your _friend_, so that I don't buy some hideously expensive dress for a wedding that might not happen."

"Rachel…"

"I'm serious," she countered. "Patrick is a nice guy, don't get me wrong. But never once since you two have been together have I seen hickies on the side of your neck."

Sarah blushed a telling red, her hand instantly going to the fading bruises there.

Rachel beamed proudly at herself, "so c'mon- spill. Who was he? And is that why you're reconsidering the whole marriage thing with Patrick?"

Sarah gaped, "I'm not reconsidering anything. What gave you that idea…?"

Rachel arched an all-knowing eyebrow and gestured to Sarah's twirling fingers. "You've been doing that the past week."

She instantly shoved her hands beneath the table.

Rachel leaned forward, her light brown eyes softening. "Sarah… how long have we've known each other?"

"Five years."

"Five years… Now in that time I have known you, the only guy you ever hooked up with was Patrick… which leads me to believe, you are very careful and almost prudish when it comes to your bed and what happens beneath those sheets."

"You're sounding a lot like a lawyer," Sarah muttered.

Rachel continued unabated, "So- my only conclusion is that you have finally snapped and had a reckless one night stand. Or, you met someone else."

"Are you saying Patrick and I don't have a passionate relationship?" She asked indignantly. "Because we do."

"I'm saying that you and Patrick have a nice, safe, and boring as hell relationship. The only logical step forward is marriage."

"You make is sound like a merger."

Rachel pursed her lips, "It kinda is."

"Look..." Sarah began with a frustrated sigh. "We might not be madly in love or have that crazy romance that some do. But at least we respect and trust each other. That's more than most."

"If he _respects_ and _trusts_ you so much, then he won't mind hearing all about your wild one night stand."

Sarah abruptly got to her feet, flustered. "I'm not getting into this."

Rachel got to her feet too. "Honey, you're my best friend. And I love you to death. But you and I both know this marriage won't make you happy. Patrick is not the answer here. Maybe the guy who you let into your bed for the first time in five years, _is_. Hell- he's probably even a better option than Patrick."

The painful knot in Sarah's stomach seemed to sink heavily now at her friend's words as she whispered softly, "he's not an option. That's the problem."

Rachel reeled in surprise. "What do you mean? Is he married? Attached? Because whatever it is- being the dirty mistress in some whirlwind affair is better than getting married just to get married, Sarah."

Sarah opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out. How could she possibly explain that the reason she couldn't be with Crowley was because he was the King of Hell and having a human lover was not an option for a guy like him. Or worse, that after spending one night with this demon- she realized that what Patrick and her had was a joke. That she had experienced more passion in one encounter than she had in two years with a man she intended to marry.

But none of that mattered. Crowley didn't want her. The man she had dreamed about for the past ten years… didn't want her. And that was enough to crush her for good, leaving nothing but the pathetically tragic woman she felt that was.

"You're right, Rachel. Okay?" She said with a heavy sigh. "I know you think what I'm doing is stupid. But at least I would finally have someone that wants me. I can't spend the rest of my life waiting or longing for a guy I can't have." She straightened. "I'm moving on. And if that means marrying Patrick, then so be it. I'm not going to wait anymore. I just can't."

And with that, Sarah strode out of the coffee shop, leaving her friend and doubts about Patrick behind her. If anything, Sarah felt more determined to marry than ever before. Her heart might have been burnt by Crowley, but that was not going to stop her from living her life. She was sure of this, or at least she told herself that.

_**TBC**_


	4. You Burn for Me

**Chapter 4: You Burn for Me**

She was going to be late. It was date night. Patrick planned a night out with just the two of them—a new sushi restaurant had just opened up downtown and afterwards he booked a table at their favorite and very romantic wine bar where they would discuss their wedding plans. But Sarah couldn't wait.

The glass doors opened to her building and the night guard eyed her suspiciously, but she waved her badge and he gave her the go ahead. Five minutes later, her high heels clacking loudly on the freshly polished floors, she was in her office, hunting for the Roman case files. She was afraid to leave them at work, unsecured, open for anyone to see or worse, steal…

She had spent the past week pouring over every line and detail of this case. When Sarah first opened the file, she thought her law firm was partnered with Richard Roman on whatever alleged criminal charges were brought against him. But to her astonishment, the case was against him. Allegations as huge as kidnapping, extortion, fraud even and missing employees. The second Sarah agreed to consult on the case with the branch in New York, they sent over boxes of paperwork, all regarding the illustrious Richard Roman and the people that had mysteriously disappeared while under his supervision.

Now, Sarah was neck deep in the case. Fact checking and working with the New York's D.A.'s office. Her nerves were right on the edge too. If Richard Roman was such a powerful man, who could get to anyone- anywhere, Sarah feared it was just a matter of time before he found out he was being investigated by their law firm. Hence why the New York branch sent her the case. She was the back-up if anything failed on their end. Problem was, Sarah wasn't too sure she was comfortable with that idea, especially after everything she read about Richard Roman.

Power like that doesn't just bestow itself on the weak and incapable. And if Sarah knew anything about powerful men—it was that most of them plundered their way to the top with little to know thought about the ones below them—or simply sold their soul to a demon. It unnerved her to think about how far someone like Richard Roman would go to hide his secrets. If all these people went missing under his employment, she wondered what he did to his enemies.

Sarah brushed her fingers through her hair, tossing the thick of it over her shoulder as she bent and retrieved the box of files she had collected for the case. She didn't feel having it at the office was safe anymore. She'd been working on the case for little over a month and Roman had to know by now that he was under investigation. So the jig was up in her opinion, and date night or not—putting these files in a safe place was her first priority. Her apartment felt like a fairly reasonable place. She quickly taped the sides of the box, ready to carry it out to her car.

"My, my, Sarah—don't you look rather fetching this evening," drawled out an achingly familiar voice.

Her heart thudded before she saw him. Startled, she spun and saw the last person she ever expected to see again. Crowley, in all his demonic form, leaned casually against her darkened office window which shown with the city street-lamps and buildings behind him.

Her pulse leapt and her hands tightened around the box. Every memory and sensual sensation of that night came flooding back in a crashing tidal wave and it took every ounce of strength she possessed to look unaffected by his presence.

As though he could read her mind, Crowley narrowed his eyes cuttingly across her face, his hands in his black overcoat, studying her from across the room. He looked as handsome as ever, dressed in his fine black suit and with those intense, unreadable emerald eyes. And why did his sultry voice always cause a shiver of excitement to spread like wild fire all over her body? Maybe because she vividly recalled how he purred sweet, sexy nothings to her in bed, enchanting her, pleasuring her, caressing her...

But she had a distinct feeling that Crowley wasn't here for that again. At least that the impression he gave as he stared her down coldly. Now, that sultry voice meant to scare her. Intimidate her. She was no longer dealing with Crowley the lover. No, the one who stood before her now was Crowley the demon, Ruler of Hell.

"So… where are we headed tonight?" he inquired casually.

She gripped the box instinctively, not sure why. "I have a date."

"Aw—a date… how," he hesitated before filling in, "normal."

She swallowed the nervous lump in her throat. "Yes very. Patrick and I are going to go over our guest list." Sarah paused then, unsure why she was even telling Crowley this. He wasn't a part of her life anymore than she was in his.

His eyes searched her form and the box she carried. His gaze landed on the engagement ring. She waited to the surprise—shock, anything. Nothing. He tilted his head sideways and coolly smiled.

"Yes, I can see that you're getting married." He stated blandly. "Congratulations. You're Patrick is a lucky man."

She said nothing, though her body was betraying her and responding too much to him. Sarah just hoped she wasn't blushing. It was her awful tell and she hated it. And she very much hated the man who caused it. He had to right to make her feel guilty or regret her decision with going to him. She did it to be free of him—she did it to finally know what it was like to be with the demon who haunted her dreams for so long. Now that she had him, she could focus on being entirely and completely on Patrick. Crowley was a thing from her past. It was time to move on.

"I doubt you came here to talk about my engagement, Crowley. So what do you want?" she asked carefully.

He eyed her curiously then shrugged, strolling away from the window towards her. "You're right. I don't make it a habit to pay personal visits. So let's cut to the chase, shall we?" He glanced at the box in her arms. She swallowed. "A birdie told me your firm is working on a case against the all mighty Dick Roman."

Fear made her stiffen when he approached. But not in fear of him, but in fear of letting him too close. Letting him slither his way back inside her chest and coil around her heart once more. She couldn't afford that. It had been a month since they last saw each other. A long, grueling month of forcing herself to forget and move on.

"We might be," she replied coolly.

"Well, if you are… I just wanted to stop by and give you a fair warning, dove."

She hesitated and then shrugged indifferently. "I know he's powerful, Crowley. I can handle myself and men like him. Don't worry about me," she said drily.

He smirked, "Are you implying that I'm concerned for your safety?"

That was if you had a heart, she thought bitterly. Instead she retorted, "Why else would you be here? Unless you want something from this office—from me."

He chuckled sinisterly, "Please- I know everything there is to know about Mr. Dick Roman and trust me, it's more than I'd like." He stepped ever closer, her body tensing. "Yet—you're right. I did come here to warn you. I'd hate to see a friend get swallowed hole by that monster. So, be warned, dove… this case against him will not end well for you. I suggest you hand it off to someone else and forget all about Mr. Roman."

"I can't do that," Sarah said sincerely. She wasn't going to give up this case. No matter who it was against. People in power shouldn't abuse it especially when others ended up hurt or worse, dead. "You don't know who you're up against, Sarah…"

"Then enlighten me," she countered hotly.

He sneered, "You know I can't."

"Funny, neither can I then." Sarah cradled the box into her arms. "Wow, this is getting heavy and I better run. Don't want to keep Patrick waiting," she said dramatically and headed for the door.

"Sarah," Crowley said disapprovingly as he reappeared suddenly in front of her exit. "This isn't some David and Goliath battle. More like a massacre with little chance of survival. So my suggestion is to take the high road and dump this case on someone else. This is not your responsibility."

Something finally snapped inside her. Crowley was no longer allowed to be her knight in shining armor. That role vanished the second he did. He didn't get to revive the role now—not again.

"And I'm not your responsibility either," she snapped indignantly. "Now get off your horse and save some other damsel. Because I'm done being yours."

Crowley's eyes blazed furiously.

She hesitated. She had never seen him so angry before. Though she would dare never admit it, Crowley scared her a little. Her jaw clenched with tight determination as she attempted to get past him. "I have to go. This conversation is over."

All of a sudden the box was flung from her arms with an invisible force and she was knocked off her feet and pushed backwards into her tinted window in her office. The glass was hard and unbreakable, but his fury made them shiver. She gasped.

Crowley stood before her, eyes burning with the intensity of all Hell. His handsome features were cold and unforgiving. A dreadful fear shot through her as she hung effortlessly in the air, her feet inches from the ground.

"Not too many people have the nerve to stand up to me much anymore. Only the small minded and ignorant try to call themselves my equal," he explained venomously. "Ever since I took up this new post as manager, I have perfected many things in Hell. However, I believe my greatest achievement, besides the infinite cue, has been in the art of slow torture."

Sarah fought frantically at the invisible chains pinning her against the window. But nothing worked. She might as well fight a brick wall because she wasn't going anywhere and from the look in Crowley's eyes, he intended that.

"What are you playing at, Crowley?" She bit out. "Do you think that scaring me into submission is really going to work? Because you know it won't. You don't scare me."

Crowley's jaw muscle flexed as he stepped closer to her. "And why is that, dove? Why don't I frighten you? Is it because you think you're special to me? That I wouldn't harm you?"

Sarah inhaled swiftly but said nothing.

He cocked his head to the side, smiling. "Aw, so that's why."

"Put me down." She demanded, attempting to cover the fear clogging her throat.

"You're scared, Sarah." He stepped forward, touching the side of her naked elbow. She shivered. "You should be…" he whispered huskily, his face darkening with carnal lust as his eyes scrutinized every curve of her body in her knee high strapless maroon dress.

His hands felt rough against her soft skin as they trailed effortlessly from her shoulder to the curve of her neck. She felt every finger brush her skin. It was tantalizing and awful. She wanted to lash out, fight back. But he was in control. He wanted to demonstrate his power over her. His other hand caressed the side her waist, his touch searing hear through her dress as he reached beneath her breasts.

"Don't," she whimpered breathlessly.

Crowley stepped closer until his mouth hovered over hers and their eyes locked.

"I should've taken your soul ten years ago. I should've forgotten all about you the moment I met you. Yet somehow you keep coming back to my open window and I don't know if I should cage you, or just kill you."

His hands finally moved and roughly palmed her soft breasts through the dress, abusing her yet enthralling her at the same time. She choked back a cry of pleasure as he pressed himself against her now, his hard body molding into hers perfectly. Her skin warmed feverishly, but her blood spiked when his hovering mouth finally took hers.

She resisted, fighting the sensuality of his tempting mouth. She bit down hard on his lower lip.

He pulled back, wincing.

"Don't do that again."

He smirked, licking the blood off with his tongue. "You're right—not good enough. I'm much better than that."

The next kiss was pure, hot passion. He tasted of briefly of metallic blood but also of fire. It was a fiery, harsh kiss that left her breathless. He had never been this rough—this desperate. It was as if he had wanted her just as badly as she had wanted him. Now he was giving her everything. And it was intoxicating. His hungry desire quickly swept her up until she found herself responding with an eagerness that matched his own. He let out a long, low growl at her response to his kiss. Sarah couldn't help it. Despite everything, she needed him.

Tongues danced. Lips opened, wild and torridly hot. A hand shot out to capture the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her hair as he forced her mouth harder into his. She was dizzy from his kiss and she never wanted him to stop.

Crowley's other hand squeezed her breast once more, sending sparks of fire to her loins before sliding downwards over her backside, pushing her hips forward until she brushed into his towering manhood. She gasped against his lips as he rocked his hips forward, making her burn between her thighs causing her to ache furiously.

Crowley sensed this and the invisible bonds ensnaring her fell away and the second they did, Sarah moved. She wrapped herself around him, letting her dress hike as she slid her leg around his waist and arched her back, feeling his cock brush her most over-sensitive part between her legs.

Crowley groaned at her wanton movements and without wasting any time he grabbed her and led her backwards to the desk. He cleared it with his powers, sending her case files crashing to the floor. Her heart raced. Her breath came out fast as he gracefully positioned her on her back, hips on the edge of the desk, legs opened before him. He devoured her greedily with his eyes as he loosened his tie, unbuttoning his shirt and letting it fall open but not taking it off. She watched him under heavy eyelids as he unclasped his belt, his pants dropping soundlessly to the floor. She bit her lower lip in pure excitement as she saw his heavy arousal between them.

Try as she might, she couldn't deny him. She didn't want to. It felt right to have his hands touch her, his fingers on her bare thighs, questing upwards to find the part of her that craved him so intensely it frightened her. His fingers found the aching place between her legs, and his thumb rubbed the little nub nestled in her silky folds of skin, making her respond instinctively by arching against his hand with a little mew of pleasure.

To her shame, the more he stroked, the more wantonly she yearned for it- for him. She closed her eyes, cheeks flaming.

It was then she felt his warm breath against her neck as he whispered in that incredibly sexy voice, "I thought about _this_ all month, Sarah… I've thought of nothing but touching you, hearing you moan for me… being inside of you…" all of a sudden he was. He thrusted forward with a fierce need, pumping more deeply into her with each stroke.

She cried out in rapture, her legs tightening around his waist as he fucked her right there on her desk in the middle of her office. His large, thick manhood filled her completely. Her body trembled at how perfectly they fit together, whether he realized it or not. Each thrust pushed her higher upwards, until she felt closer to the edge of orgasm. Crowley was barely inside her before she was begging for release. All he had to do was whisper her name and look at her with those smoldering eyes and she was wet with wanting.

Crowley growled as Sarah stretched and arched upwards like a cat, greeting his furious pumps with newfound energy and want. She wanted this—wanted him. More than she ever thought possible. Piercing hot excitement flared inside her, stroking the fires within.

She felt Crowley's fingers pull at her strapless dress and with a yank, tore the front open until her breasts were exposed before him. He kneaded her breasts ruthlessly, his other hand clutched to leg. It was a furious, wild dance and both knew the steps and tempo, it was only a matter of time before one of them burst into flames.

Crowley tilted his head backwards, hips rocking forward mindlessly. Sarah crossed her feet behind him, trapping him to her, locking him inside her. She wanted him so deep inside her—she wanted him to touch her very soul.

Ahead was danger… and excitement. She could feel it just beyond her grasp, beckoning, drawing her in. He groaned, his face grew strained, his eyes burned with an unholy light, yet he kept moving inside her, building the tension until with unexpected quickness it exploded inside her and rocked her with wave after wave of pleasure.

A hoarse cry escaped her lips as she clutched Crowley close, quivering and shaking from the after waves. Seconds later, Crowley let out a strangled gasp and she felt his cock tighten and he climaxed. She gripped him with her muscles in her legs and thighs, drawing out his orgasm, milking it from him, until he collapsed on top of her completely drained. She cradled his head against her stomach, her fingers running though his hair and her breathing choppy.

She felt his fingers grip the sides of her waist before he wordlessly slid out of her and dressed. Sarah nervously bit her lower lip and sat up, holding her ruined dress over her chest and inching down her dress down over her exposed thighs as she continued to sit on the edge of her desk. When he finally looked at her his eyes were unreadable and intense. Then he noticed her hand clutching her dress and his face softened. He reached out and touched the shredded material.

"Shame, I liked this dress," he rasped out gently.

"Me too," she replied breathlessly as he continued to touch her.

His fingers touched her chaffed, reddened lips now. Her stomach fluttered. Feeling dangerous, she opened her mouth and captured his fingers with a sensual suck. His eyes darkened and he pulled away, only to claim her mouth with his lips, possessive and sizzling. A moan escaped her throat as he drove his tongue into her over and over, filling her with renewed need.

He pulled back, jaw twitching, "What have you done to me?" he asked vulnerably.

Her heart stopped. He kissed her again, this time slowly. Agonizingly slow. She sighed.

"Stay away from Roman, dove." He said unexpectedly.

Her eyes widened curiously, "Tell me why."

"He's dangerous."

"So are you."

He smirked, "Yes, I am. Glad you finally noticed."

She smiled softly up at him.

His finger caressed her cheek affectionately. Sarah didn't know what to think in this moment. Her heartstrings were being pulled by a snake and she wasn't sure if she was smart enough to ignore them like before, or just let herself be pulled into the jaws of death. Because that was Crowley was. Death. Her death.

"I'm not giving up the case, Crowley." She replied. "People have gone missing from his campaign and under his employment. Dozens, if not more. I can't ignore that."

Crowley's soft touches stopped abruptly and he pulled away. Her heart felt like it was being ripped from her chest. But she didn't react. She couldn't afford to look weak. Not to him. She didn't want him to know how much he affected her. How she feared that she secretly loved him. And that she always had.

"Why do I get the feeling that anything I say to try and stop you, would be useless?" he asked picking up his overcoat from the floor.

She said nothing, just watched him.

He turned to glance over his shoulder at her. "Well, I can't have you go out in that dress. I'll be right back, Sarah. Don't go anywhere."

He vanished within a blink of an eye and she barely had time to absorb it when he reappeared once more. She gaped as he held a shimmering, silk colored ash black dress.

"I thought of you when I saw it," he said. "Delightfully sinful, yet tasteful."

She slid off the desk and numbly unzipped herself from the mangled dress that he had torn around her shoulders. She took the dress from Crowley and with sudden vulnerability turned her back to him, unable and unwilling to see those intense eyes on her naked form.

She felt his hands caress her back as he pushed the dress off her. She took a breath, her lungs suddenly empty. The new dress slid in her hands. It was long and the material wonderful to the touch. Sarah held it out before her and slightly bent about to step in it when she felt Crowley's hand trail down the curve of her spine. She stiffened.

"You have no idea how seductive you are," he whispered hoarsely. Sarah flushed, quickly slipped it on and felt Crowley slowly zip up the fine material in the back for her.

It felt like she was wearing a slip. Yet it was the design of the dress. Before she could turn she felt Crowley's warm lips press into the crook of her neck and shoulder. "If I see you in this dress, I fear I might not leave. But I must, dove."

Unthinking, Sarah whirled around and wrapped herself around him. "Don't," she whispered against his neck, kissing the warm stubbled chin. "Spend the night with me."

He hummed at the idea. "I'd love too, but I've already over stayed my welcome. Besides, you have a very important date."

Her heart shattered and she abruptly pulled away from him. Eyes brimming, but she choked down the ridiculous emotions. "So what is this then, Crowley? Am I your occasional fuck and flee?"

He arched a dangerous eyebrow. "If you'd like."

"Not really," she stated drily, holding back her anger.

"Quit being dramatic," he retorted. "What did you expect getting involved with a demon? Love sonnets and flowers?"

She shook her head, suddenly feeling very foolish. "No, just maybe a little respect would be nice."

"Respect," he said carefully. "I thought I was being very respectful when I ravished you on your work desk."

Sarah's hand shot out in a flurry of emotion and with one hard, resounding slap, Crowley's cheek reddened.

Mild surprise crossed his face. "My, my, this birdie bites."

"I can do more than that," she countered.

"So can I," Crowley said and in one fluid move, he grabbed her, twirled her around and trapped her back against his chest. She fought, but it was useless. His demonic powers kept her ensnared against him. He tilted her head to the side and breathed huskily into her ear. "I swear- you must have a death wish." He muttered. "Why else would you fight me so much?"

"Maybe because you're an ass."

He chuckled, "True." His hand slid down her stomach then, lighting a burning fire to her skin. The dress was so thin it was almost like his touch was on her very flesh. "But you have to admit, Sarah… we've got chemistry."

She stiffened, which made him laugh again.

"Come off it, dove. You and I…" his hand slid slowly lower until cupping her womanly delta through her dress, causing her limbs to loosen from the sexual heat erupting all over her body. "We balance each other. You, pure and good. Me… well, I'm just full of sin and indulgence. But somehow, we fit."

She swallowed.

He kissed the soft spot beneath her ear. "I'll be seeing you again, Sarah. Real soon." His sinful fingers slid further between her parted thighs, making her gasp and writhe against him. He heard him let out a frustrated sigh. He wanted her too—she felt his hard erection against her back. He could no longer pretend to be unaffected.

"Remember who you belong to, Sarah." He whispered softly. "Not some simpering meat bag or passionless moron who forgot what to do with a beautiful woman like yourself. But me. You belong to me, Sarah. You're my dove now."

"Who says I want to be yours, Crowley?" she asked breathlessly.

His empty hand moved over her breast, resting directly above her heart. "This… this tells me you want to be mine. I'm the King of the Cross Roads. I know what everyone desires the most. And you…" he sighed and nuzzled the flesh of her neck. "Miraculously, you want- no you burn… for me."

She shivered, trembling in his arms. "And what about you?" she asked, hoping he would give her some hint to the nature of his heart.

He hummed, "I get more of this… more of you."

Sarah closed her eyes as the pain of his words ripped through her. She knew he couldn't love her. But she had desperately hoped for it. And like a fool, she fell in love with him.

"I must go," he said, withdrawing his hands and stepping away. "No rest for the wicked."

She didn't turn, afraid to look at him.

"And you're welcome by the way… for the dress."

And with that, Crowley- the demon she had fallen in love with, vanished.

_**TBC**_


	5. A Snake among Sheep

**Chapter 5: A Snake among Sheep**

Crowley arched a contemptuous eyebrow at the newspaper in his hand. Richard Roman seeking presidency. By God, had the whole bloody world turned into idiots? Clearly Dick was up to something. What? Crowley hadn't the foggiest— probably mass murder, genocide, eating small babies, blah blah blah. Still, he was confident in the Hardy Boys. After all they brought down Lucifer, Michael, Alistair and countless other twats that deserved a good gnaking. Now it was Crowley's job to sit back and watch the world collapse with a Leviathan leading the helm, or the Wonder Twins to save it—yet again.

A sharp knock came at his mansion door.

"Enter," He drawled lazily.

A demon in a black and white suit entered. He looked more human than demonic, which was good since Crowley had tasked him as head of his personal security. And subtly was key, even among demons.

The demon's face was pensive. "Sir, you requested to inform you about any activity regarding Sarah Redmond."

Crowley felt his heart thump painfully hard against his chest. Was she hurt? Was she all right…? The questions were on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it. Was she dead in a ditch or worse—selling her bloody soul again but to another demon? Swift betrayal and hurt stung his pride but he ignored it. He couldn't appear to have feelings for a human because clearly, in Crowley's opinion, he didn't. Feelings for anything other than himself was out of the question. He was a survivor and that meant no attachments, nothing to make him sentimental or appear weak.

Besides, Sarah was not his responsibility. She made that very clear several nights ago when she told him to sod off, but not before allowing the privilege of slipping between her parted thighs and giving her one hell of a ride on her desk. He sincerely hoped she had a difficult time sitting at that desk without thinking of what they did on top of it.

He kept the newspaper firmly up, hiding his tense expression from his head of security.

"And…?" Crowley asked indifferently.

"She's attending some sort of event tonight and there are several leviathan present. Would you like us to keep tailing her or leave her for them?"

Flee from a hungry pack of Leviathans sounded like a good plan for any well-to-do demon. Crowley neatly folded his newspaper and gave the demon an irritable look.

"Are any of you still following her?"

"Yes, sir. She's currently attending this event in the Hamptons."

"Pull your team off for the night."

The demon nodded unquestioningly. "Yes, sir."

Crowley stood, straightening his fashionable black on black suit. "Tell the boys to take the night off."

"Thank you, sir." The demon left, shutting the door behind him.

Crowley instantly vanished and reappeared in the Hamptons. He knew it wouldn't be difficult to find her— he could sense her anywhere. He closed his eyes and knew she was close. Vanishing again, Crowley reappeared in front of a towering mansion with enough Mercedes and Audis parked out front to make any wall-street boy jealous.

He strolled inside. It was easy enough blending in at a party like this—people were here to show off their money. Suits, designer dresses, purses, shoes, jewelry—everything bought with a hefty price tag, and some of them might have even bartered their soul to get it. The cream of the crop attended this gala.

He glanced about looking for his dove. Sarah didn't attend parties like this. She was too good, too Christian. She should be walking among better people than this. He wondered what possessed her to attend. Besides, knowing his determined little human she was probably itching to get back to work on that ridiculous Dick Roman case.

If she would've listened to him—there wouldn't be any reason for him to keep tabs on her. He put his personal security team on her around the clock to make sure Roman's gooey puppies didn't try to take a bite out of her. Damn her and her moral scruples. Why couldn't she be a little less 'save-the-world'? Because, he thought suddenly, then she wouldn't be his Sarah… the woman who he bedded twice now and each time left wanting more. So much more.

Sarah Redmond had infected every part of him. He couldn't understand it. He didn't want to. He had been in serious denial that night he left her in the office. She begged him to stay—but he couldn't. He couldn't allow that part of him to give in to a mortal. To feel, to want, to… to love. And if any human on the planet could make him believe in all that disgusting rubbish, it was her.

Now here he was. A demon among sinners looking for his lost dove. She didn't belong here. But Crowley knew that she didn't belong to him either. So if he couldn't have her, he sure as bloody hell wasn't going to let any leviathans sink their greedy teeth into.

Keeping an eye out for Sarah as well as leviathans, Crowley toured the grand palace in which they called a house in the Hamptons. It was lavish and classic. Tasteful art hung on the walls as people sipped on hundreds of dollars worth of champagne and nibbled on fine catering. He strolled over to the far end of the room, surveying everyone he passed, feeling their desires—their wants. Nothing stood out. So he would have to wait until a leviathan crossed his path before making his move. Killing time, Crowley noted the open bar and took his opportunity for a cold drink.

He ordered a scotch on the rocks and lazily leaned against the counter, eyes on the crowd. Sarah was here—he'd find her. Music wafted over his senses and he noticed a rather posh instrumental three man band set up next to the grand fireplace in the dining hall. They were playing rather well, he noted, though no one seemed to be paying any attention. The music vaguely reminded him of a few decades ago when women and men considered dancing as flirting. The waltz was risqué and made mother's scowl at their daughters for letting certain rogues take them for a long dance among the crowd. Now, texting was flirting. Crowley rolled a contemptuous brow, women are so easy nowadays.

Send them a smiley face instead of a bouquet of roses and they'll jump hand over foot into bed. Had romance in this age completely died out? Extinct like a romantic waltz by the firelight? Or was Crowley just too old to understand the current trends?

He hoped that there was still some romance left in the world—even if he himself didn't participate.

It was then he saw her by the fireplace, near the very music that had momentarily enchanted him. Her pale ivory skin glowed with a warmth he'd never seen before. She was smiling, laughing—absolutely breath-taking. She wore a gown unlike any woman in the room. It was Gucci from the looks. The dress was flowingly long, designed to fit her curves in every spot as if hugging her skin. It then cascaded downwards over her lean legs, draping close to the floor. It was a cream colored dress that was cut into a classic Marilyn Monroe around her breasts and finished upwards into a one-shoulder design.

Bloody hell, Crowley thought, downing the last of his whiskey, she was the most tempting sight in this place. If he could freeze hell and savor her in this moment—he would. Beautiful dove had grown into a magnificent creature. Something he hadn't expected. The woman before him now was stronger, sophisticated, and memorizing. Her past was her past. She had finally become the woman she had meant to be all along. All with a little help from him.

And damned if Crowley felt a stab of pure hunger for this woman before him now. Her hair was pinned up in some fancy, layered bun with ringlets falling loose, which only made his fingers itch to bury into her thick brown hair and let all that trapped beauty free. He wanted her here and now. His skin felt uncomfortably warm. His tie suddenly felt tight around his dry throat. What in God's name did she do to him?

"Is that the bride to be?"

Crowley heard a woman ask behind him.

"Yes, that's her. A real beauty, right?" Replied another woman.

Two clucking hens over the latest chick, he thought indifferently. Well at least they were right about Sarah—she was a beautiful young woman. And yet she was so much more than her looks. Crowley wouldn't have been drawn to her otherwise. He'd been around the kind of beauties whose hamster cage was spinning in that pretty skull, but the hamster was clearly dead and decomposing.

"Yes, she is. Patrick found himself a real catch, if I may say so."

"Right…! I was so excited when he told the family he was finally settling down."

"I heard she's an attorney too. Very nice. Intelligent, ambitious, all good qualities."

"Yes, she seems like a good fit for our Patrick, though she does have a past apparently."

Her nosey friend hummed in delight. "Really? Do tell."

"Well, from what's been circling this evening, is that her father passed away from a heart attack when he was very young."

"Oh my, how terrible."

"Apparently, from what I've heard… he died right in front of her—at church!"

"No!"

"Yes!" She said, aghast herself. "I couldn't believe it. How tragic. Well at least that's what I thought at first."

"What do you mean?"

"The story, what I heard anyway, was that she didn't do anything when her father died. He collapsed, clutching his chest and she stood over him like some frozen statue."

"Oh!"

"I know! The poor thing was probably traumatized or…"

"Or what?"

"Or maybe she wanted him to die! That's why she just stood there watching."

"Nancy! Don't you dare."

"I'm serious, Rita. From what everyone's been saying, her father left behind a fortune upon his death. The family inherited it all."

Well at least he was able to provide for the family he abused, Crowley thought. He knew for a fact that the good ol'pastor Redmond was currently residing in hell being flambéed as we speak. Crowley's smiled. At least he knew that his dove had lived comfortably after the event of her father's timely demise.

"She probably wanted him to die for the money," Nancy prattled on. "I mean, who wouldn't? And so the family was financially well off for years until her mother was later arrested for tax evasion."

Crowley snorted in glee into his glass. Good, the witch deserved punishment as well. She neglected the very family she promised to take care of and protect. She stood by idle and useless while her daughters were left at the mercy of their insidious father.

Rita gasped.

Nancy continued. "Story goes that her mother stole a lot of the money from her own family, then avoided paying taxes on them. Apparently, after she got arrested, she disowned Sarah."

"Why?"

"She blamed Sarah for her husband's death and said she wouldn't be in prison if her husband had still been alive."

"She blamed Sarah for his death?"

"Yes—said she had help from this older gentleman, dressed in a black Armani suit, that day at the church."

Surprised, Crowley listened, riveted to the gossip. How much information passed through these hallways tonight, he wondered. And had any reached his Sarah? Did she hear what they were saying about her? He sincerely hoped not.

"Really? How fascinating."

"He attended church services that morning and was at Sarah's side the whole time when her father collapsed. He spoke to him too, before he died. Though no one knows for sure what this man in black said or did. Only that the mother claims he helped _kill_ with Sarah somehow—that they planned on killing her own father. Oh and he had some British accent or something."

Crowley had enough of these ridiculous woman and their inane tattle. He turned on his polished heel and strode towards the older ladies. They too were dressed in fine dresses and wore high-priced jewelry.

"Ladies…" Crowley drawled out darkly.

The older women turned to his direction.

He smiled. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation."

Their eyes widened in surprise, and then fear as they both sized him up and realized he may be the very person they had been discussing. He knew they were putting it all together in their heads as he spoke—accent, dark black suit, older… He saw the flash of terror in both of their dull, uninteresting eyes.

"If I were you—I'd be careful what you spread around. You never know who's listening. As a close, personal friend of the bride-to-be, I recommend you quit wagging your tongues about. You never know who you might just piss off."

Their eyes widened at him. But one older woman frowned disapprovingly at him.

"Well, don't you know it's considered rude to listen to someone else's conversation?"

The one speaking was Nancy, the fire starter, the shorter less attractive one was Rita.

"I agree with you there—problem is, I have these handsome set of ears, which are attached to directly to my skull and unfortunately they don't have the ability to close themselves from loud, ridiculous old hens, clucking away at idle and false gossip."

Both gasped in horror.

"How dare you!?"

"Yes, yes, yes—I know. I'm the devil." He stepped dangerously close to them now, his eyes darkening almost pitch black, showing a glimmer of his demon side. "Now ladies—listen carefully and do us all a favor… Shut up, the both of yous. You know how the saying goes?" He smirked, enjoying their stunned silence. "If you can't say anything nice—don't say anything at all, unless you're telling your priest… Now if you excuse me, I have better people to surround myself with."

He strode away, feeling renewed. He loved putting people in their rightful place—which was usually under his boot.

Crowley made his way through the crowd. She was still there by the fireplace, glowing. Sarah seemed to know he was there as she glanced over her shoulder and their eyes locked. That damned funny feeling fluttered in his chest.

He expected a frown, a surprised expression, anything other than what he got from her—a soft, almost kind smile that danced lightly on her lips. Dear God, he thought, nearly choking. He had to have her. She made his heart dance summersaults.

She excused herself politely from her current company and moved to him. He stilled, waiting for her. When she approached, he smiled. "You are stunning, my dear. Exotic even."

She arched a slight eyebrow but kept smiling at him. "Hello Crowley."

"Sorry for crashing—I couldn't help myself. Were you expecting me?"

Nodding, she slipped her hand through his arm and casually brushed his arm. It was a familiar yet non-sexual gesture of friendship. A politician's pat. He frowned but thought nothing of it. She was among mixed company and behaved like a lady.

"I hoped you would be here." She whispered softly to him, leading him away from the crowds and the people watching her every move. "I have something for you."

"Is it a bed?" He asked sarcastically hopeful.

She kept smiling inanely. "It's a surprise."

Sarah walked with elegance as she took him to the far end of the house, away from the party goers and nosey relatives. She hesitated by an old-fashioned oak door. Turning to look at him, her smile spread into something somewhat menacing.

"You have no idea how thrilled we all were when we saw you show up." She said.

"Thrilled? Who?" he asked, unbelieving that Sarah would be happy her dirty mistress would be showing up to her engagement party. He glanced to the door that she stood by. "What's going on dove?"

Sarah's delicate fingers wrapped around the iron knob and pushed it open. He heard a muffled, agonized cry before he saw her. His dove—the real Sarah was bond and gagged to a chair, surrounded by leviathans. Sarah's face was bloodied, bruised, and scared.

They did this. These half-breed monsters hurt her! Crowley's rage flared to life like the hot embers of all hell igniting. They would not live to see their next sunset, he promised. They would pay and dearly. No one touched his love and got away with it.

"It's dinner time, Crowley." The fake Sarah said. "Would you care to join us?"

_**TBC**_


	6. Caged

**Chapter 6: Caged**

_A few hours earlier…_

Sarah stared into the crackling fireplace before her. Dressed in a skin toned silk slip and with her hair curled and pulled over her shoulder, she waited. She didn't want to finish getting ready for tonight's engagement party. It felt like a masquerade—a lie.

She had spent the last ten years believing she was doing the right thing. Believing that by leaving her family for college and never looking back was for the best. She showed up for the occasional holiday and sent a few birthday cards, but she knew that being a part of her family was a privilege she lost when she killed her father. Now she believed that by marrying Patrick, she was making a better life for herself. He was of good standing within his family and society. He had wealth and intelligence, a wholesome background and a handsome smile. And he wanted to marry her. But Patrick only knew the lie of her life, not the real Sarah Redmond—the caged dove, whose heart beat for another. For a demon—for Crowley.

Tonight, of all night's, she couldn't make herself believe the lie anymore. Maybe it had something to do with Crowley—for the passion he had shown her and the strength she felt with him. But deep down, she knew that she was doing this for herself. She had to be honest with herself now. And marrying Patrick, her perfect man, was a mistake. Prince Charming wasn't real—if anything, she believed more in the harsh realities now than ever. It was time to end this charade.

She had to tell Patrick the truth before it was too late. He deserved it.

The door to the bedroom opened and Patrick walked in, grinning.

"You look beautiful already, dear." He stepped forward, his fingers trailing her cheek and lifting her chin upwards for a brief kiss. "You should at least get dressed though—I don't want to start the evening off with my mother at my throat. Proprietary and all that."

"Patrick… I need to tell you something."

"Is it the tie?" He glanced down over his navy tie. "It's lame, right?"

She shook her head, "No—it's fine. I want to talk to you before…"

"Whatever it is, I'm sure it can't wait, hon. I have to go downstairs and help mom set up the catering before she eats the head chef."

Sarah grabbed his arm and held tightly. "No, I must speak to you now. It can't wait."

His expression softened. "Is it nerves?" He kissed her cheek once more, irritatingly sweet. "It's normal to be anxious, Sarah."

"It's not nerves…"

"Well, if it's about your dress—I can have someone come up and…"

"Patrick—I'm having an affair!"

Her words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

Patrick's stunned face stared at her. "What?"

Shaking from guilt and strangely enough, relief, Sarah took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tell you that so unkindly, but I had to tell you before we went through with this." She hesitated, her voice lowering. "That is if you still do."

Patrick's face cleared. "Of course I still want to marry you."

Confused, Sarah's eyes collided with his. "What?"

He reached out and took her hands into his, holding her close. "I suspected you were having doubts about us before. And your affair—well, that doesn't surprise me. I just didn't expect you to tell me like this."

She gaped at him, unable to speak.

He continued. "I love you, my dear. And understand that running to another for comfort may have been what you needed at the time—now, I feel that with your continued commitment to me, you have made your choice."

"My choice?" she asked breathlessly.

"Yes," He nodded, his eyes filling with confidence. "You choose me."

Sarah's heart suddenly rebelled at the notion. Did she ever choose him? Could she? Over Crowley?

"No…" She whispered suddenly. Feeling momentarily brave she said, "I didn't choose you."

He chuckled. "You're here aren't you? I think it's pretty clear this is what you want."

She shook her head, feeling the walls of her cage shrinking and beginning to smother her. Withdrawing her hands from his grasp, she stepped backwards towards the fireplace.

"Now who is this fellow? An office clerk? An intern?"

"No one you know."

"Will he be here tonight?"  
"I didn't invite him—and I don't know." She gazed into the crackling fire. Her gut coiled anxiously at the thought of seeing him here tonight. Would he come? Would he save her from another mistake in her life? Did she want him to save her? No, she thought suddenly. No more saving—this was her moment. She would save herself for once in her life.

"I mean, I don't think he would. But it is Crowley and he is ruler of…" She stopped short. "He's—he's bold. Has a tendency to do things he shouldn't."

"Crowley?"

She glanced up, noticing the hint of surprise and slight recognition in Patrick's voice. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Do you know him?"

"Of course I know him—who doesn't?" Patrick's gaze turned suddenly curious at her. Almost as if he was seeing her for the first time. "But it surprises me that you know him."

She stilled, a creeping fear tingling up her spine. "How do you know Crowley?"

He sneered distastefully. "That disgusting creature has the audacity to call himself ruler of hell. And once Dick finishes his plans for the lot of you, he plans on taking over hell. After all, he was here before Crowley stuck his nose where it didn't belong."

Eyes widening, Sarah stumbled back into the edge of the fireplace, her hand gripping the mantle. This was not Patrick. This was thing before her was what Crowley warned her about. "Oh God…" She whispered.

"God has nothing to do with it. He abandoned this overpopulated rock a long time ago. Now… back to Crowley." The monster strode forward, his eyes brightening with malicious glee. "He will come for you tonight, won't he Sarah?"

Her lips trembled. She felt something graze her fingertips on the mantel. A large candle holder. She remembered seeing it earlier—silver, plenty of spiky points. She slowly reached for it.

"Yeah, I think he'll be here. Like you said—he has a tendency to be bold. And he wants you. Crowley isn't known for playing with humans, other than to make deals." Patrick's veil hand reached up to her face and brushed her hair off her shoulder, caressing her flesh. "He's attracted to you, isn't he?" His voice was barely above a whisper. "Honestly, ever since I snapped your boyfriend's neck a few weeks ago, all I've wanted to do was take a bite out of you myself."

She saw a flash of large, sharp teeth emerge from his mouth like a set of claws. Patrick was dead and this monster planned on hurting her next. A moment of remorse for her dead fiancé was fleeting as she buried it beneath her own anger and survival. She moved instantly, gripping the candle holder and hurling it across his face.

His face whipped backwards, but quickly returned, unaffected. Fear shot through her. She swung again, this time Patrick caught her arm and squeezed painfully.

"Now, now Sarah. That's no way to treat your fiancé."

He knocked the holder out of her hand and twirled her around, facing her towards the fire and holding her tightly from behind, his breath in her ear.

"When you're demon lover gets here… I will rip his cold, black heart out right in front of you. And I'll eat it whole."

"I'd like to see you try." She shot back defiantly.

He laughed coldly. "Oh I will. Maybe I'll rip your heart out instead… I've never seen a demon cry before."

"He won't cry…" she seethed. "He'll kill you if you touch me."

Patrick hummed. "Have you forgotten already, Sarah…?" He angled his body to that she felt his pelvis against her backside. She trembled. "I already have touched you. I was your fiancé for two whole weeks."

"You're disgusting."

"No, you humans are. Nothing but cows waiting for the slaughter. But you…" his hand slipped over her stomach, touching her through her silk slip. "You may just be the exception. If anything, I can understand why Crowley's attached."

"If Crowley doesn't kill you," she hissed. "I will."

"Well, if I'm about to die—I think I should have a little fun, don't you?" he taunted. Suddenly a piercing stab of teeth into the flesh of her neck made her cry out.

"You taste almost as good as you feel, my dear." Patrick tightened his hold. "Let's play."

_**TBC**_


	7. A Serpent's Heart

**Chapter 7: A Serpent's Heart**

"Would you care to join us Crowley…?" asked the leviathan besides him.

A gloriously rich dining table had been adorned with silver platters and wine glasses. The main entrée was too be the human they had bound and gagged to the chair.

All Crowley saw was the blood trickling from Sarah's pink lips, caked in the cloth that was soaked through in her mouth. Black mascara streaks made tracks down her ivory pale face. Her hair was tangled and draped around her shoulders. He could tell by her exposed skin that her dress had been stolen from her by the monster standing next to him. She wore a simple silk slip that barely covered her battered form.

Anger—pure, unfiltered, untamable rage had been his gut reaction. But Crowley had been in far too many tough situations to let his anger best him.

No—he wouldn't let these fowl, loathsome cockroaches pull one over on him. Hell bloody no. Instead, Crowley decided that he would demonstrate his full kingly abilities to these simpering fools.

A dark cold settled over his features.

"Actually—I prefer my meat skewered." His voice growled out lowly.

With a brief lift of his hand, a large silver platter from the dining table spun upwards and rocketed at one of the leviathans. Like a knife passing through butter, the silver platter severed the creature in half. The leviathan's torso spun like a top before falling uselessly to the ground. Sarah gasped in her chair and shied away from the black blood that splattered her feet.

The fake Sarah snarled. "If you kill us, Roman will surely know…"

He turned to her. "I'm counting on it."

He flicked his hand again and set her flying backwards against the regal fireplace across the room. The brick mantle greeted the monster with a loud, bone-cracking thud. The handsome looking leviathan standing guard next to Sarah hissed angrily and began to charge at him. All of a sudden he tripped, at first Crowley thought over his own feet, until he saw Sarah's own foot sticking out, causing the creature to face plant.

"Nice one, darling."

She rolled her eyes at his comment and struggled in her bonds. He waved his hands dismissively and they fell away from around her wrists and mouth. She let out a strangled gasp of relief, wiping a hand over her bloodied mouth.

Crowley's insides tightened. "Are you all right dove?"

She nodded, "I'm ok. Are you?"

He frowned, staring at the bruises on her beautiful face. "I've been better."

"Me too." Sarah got to her feet, tossing her bloodied entrapments to the floor and standing defiantly over the leviathan that she had tripped. He flipped over onto his back and smiled cruelly up at her.

"What did you do to Patrick?" she demanded.

Crowley glanced back down at the leviathan in surprise. Was this Patrick's meat suit?

"Dead." The monster spat at her.

Suddenly Sarah's foot shot out, her sharp nude-colored stiletto high heel stabbing the monster in the gut, breaking skin. The creature yelped.

"Where's his body?" her voice was strong and firm. He'd never seen her so wrathful—so bloody marvelous.

"We ate him…" the monster rasped. "And he was fucking delicious."

Sarah's eyes blazed and without warning she drew her heel back and slammed it into his face. Black leviathan blood sprayed up her shoe and over her shapely leg. The heel dug into the monster's eyeball mercilessly. Crowley cringed. The monster let out a horrible cry.

Sarah's gaze moved to Crowley. "How do I kill this piece of shit?"

"Dismemberment always worked for me."

She nodded, appearing composed. "Any recommendations on how?"

Crowley felt his dark heart go pitter patter. Oh my how he loved this feisty birdie.

"Sharp and or blunt objects. Or you could just keep hitting him of that lovely heel of yours. Maybe you'll get lucky and he'll tear his own head off for you."

She glanced over her shoulder. "What about that one?"

The fake Sarah was getting to her feet slowly, cautiously staring at them both.

He smiled darkly at the monster, eyeing the fireplace that burned behind her. Crowley snapped his fingers. The flames instantly brightened and an ember popped out of the hearth right on the monster's dress tails. It caught fire. The leviathan panicked and desperately lunged at the flames licking up her legs. Crowley withdrew the long and lethal angel dagger held within his coat and reappeared in front of the monster—the fake thing that posed as his love.

"Sorry darling, but you picked with the wrong human to have for dinner."

The monster reared its head back, revealing the set of snarling white teeth.

With a swift, expert wave of his hand, Crowley severed the leviathan's head from its shoulders. The fake face fell forward and with a resounding thud hit the ground. He then promptly kicked it into the fireplace. The flames engulfed it greedily.

"Crowley!"

Sarah's startled cry altered him as he spun in time to see the one-eyed leviathan clutching her to him, holding a silver dagger along her throat.

"Let me go, Crowley and this won't end badly for you."

"Who says this is going to end badly?" Crowley asked, pretending indifference to his dove being held hostage. He wouldn't show his true feelings to this toad—besides the toad was going to die anyway. He threatened his Sarah.

"I do." The leviathan dug the silver blade into her throat, pulling her soft skin, ripping it.

Sarah's eyes for the first time since he walked through those doors widened in terror. A burning hellfire stirred suddenly and viciously inside him. Before he realized what he was doing, Crowley summoned all his power—all his fury and put it within one big bottle of pure energy.

His eyes darkened into demonic black and the room pitched into darkness. The roaring fire hushed out, windows flung themselves open, and a rushing wind gathered inside the room until all they heard were the cries of ghostly howls and desperate souls ready to drink blood.

The leviathan glanced around the room, panicked and scared.

"You've just killed yourself, leviathan." Crowley's voice echoed gravely about them, as he barely whispered, his anger seething on each word.

The leviathan searched Crowley's dark form and out of sudden crazed fear, he drew back the blade again, about to cut and sever her throat when Sarah did something unexpected. She flung her head backwards, cracking the one-eyed monster in the nose, shattering it. He cursed, stumbling backwards with his hand over his nose, the knife clutched in his hand.

Crowley moved towards her, drawing her away from the monster, pulling her behind him. Her soft, scared hands trembled on his arm as she willing let herself be protected by him. A sudden relief filled him. Thank the devil she was all right—safe.

Without thinking, or waiting one more second, Crowley stepped forward and held up his hand to the leviathan. "See you in hell."

He snapped his fingers and the powerful ball of energy Crowley had built inside of him came forth and with the hard snap—the leviathan exploded into a messy cloud of black blood. Sarah yelped and stepped backwards from the blood. hhE He w

The darkened room instantly cleared, the fireplace roaring back to life and the lights flickering back on. His demonic black eyes were a little hard to shake though after all that adrenaline pumping power flowing through him. Crowley hadn't realized how much of hell he could harness until that moment. It took him a second to regain his balance and catch his breath.

"Please tell me they're dead." Sarah asked from behind him.

"For now. These gooey demon spawns have the tenacity of the black plague. But I'll deal with them later."

She sighed and ran a shaky hand through her messy brown hair. He saw how disheveled and tired she was. He stepped towards her, his hand capturing one of her bruised writs. "Are you all right, love?" He asked softly, letting his true concern finally show.

She took a deep, clearing breath and let it out slowly. "In a minute or two."

He smiled. "Would you like me to get you something? A cocktail? Maybe another pair of high heels?"

She glanced down and snorted at her black blood drenched heels. "Oh God… how am I suppose to explain all this?"

"To who?" he asked. "Those pompous asses out there?"

Her eyes saddened instantly. "I should speak to Patrick's mom… She doesn't know that…"

Crowley lifted her delicate hand to his lips and pressed a firm kiss on her knuckles. This beautiful, considerate woman—how could it be that she of all humans held his heart so tightly.

"Darling, I think you should do a bit of cleaning up before you go anywhere."

She smiled weakly. "You're right." Her expression softened towards him, which nearly undid him. Crowley lowered her hand.

"Where would you like me to take you? I will personally escort the dove wherever she wants to fly off to."

She stepped towards him and with an unexpected ease, she grabbed his hand and lifted it to her lips. "I'll go anywhere the serpent wants to take me."

Crowley surprised, but enthralled, smiled. "Even if it's somewhere dangerous? Like my bed?"

Her eyes darkened in excitement. "Only if you promise to stay with me. At least for the rest of the evening."

Crowley's heart thrummed. He would stay with her. Forever if she wanted it.

"Of course, love." He cupped her purpled bruised cheek in his hand. "Let's get lost for a while, shall we?"

She nodded, biting her lower lip in anticipation. His stomach knotted. He closed her hand into his and with a snap of his fingers, they vanished together. Crowley wasn't sure what the rest of the night held for them. And he realized now that though he may have been fighting to help Sarah from her cage this whole time, he was also secretly waiting for the same freedom from his own cage. And she was his freedom. The serpent now loved the dove, because the dove had his heart.

_**TBC**_

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****Thank you all for the lovely reviews & followings. This story has come to me piece by piece & very slowly. I will attempt at a steamy finish soon. Thanks again for the support & for reading :)**

**~kidneythieves**


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